


Families Count

by spikesgirl58



Series: Twenty Five Days of Christmas [14]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya misses his family at the holidays and Napoleon decides to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Families Count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ducky's Lady](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ducky%27s+Lady).



“Oh, the weather outside is frightful,” Napoleon sang as he walked into the office he shared with his partner.  He loved this time of year.  People were so kind to each other and that seemed to have a positive effect on THRUSH.  Even they seemed to ratchet stuff back a bit.  “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!” He finished and waited for Illya’s scathing comment.  Hearing nothing, he looked in the direction of his partner’s desk.  Whereas Napoleon’s desk was covered with cards and small decorations given to him by his many admirers, Illya’s desk was neat and clear.  Not even a paperclip or a slip of paper marred the surface.

 

Illya came through the door, his shoulder still hunched against the cold.  Unlike Napoleon, who drove to work, Illya took mass transit and on snowy days it could be its own special kind of hell.

 

Quietly Illya took off his jacket and muffler and then chafed his hands together, pausing to blow on them.

 

“I’m heading to the Canteen for some coffee,” Napoleon said, grinning.  “Can I bring you back something?”

 

_“Моя семья”_ Illya murmured softly and Napoleon frowned.  His Russian was fair and it sounded as if Illya had said, “My family.”  Then, louder, Illya said, “Yes, some hot chocolate, please.”  He began to dig for his money clip, but Napoleon held up a hand.

 

“Not necessary. It’s my treat.”  Illya walked quickly to his desk and flipped his calendar around.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“You’re treating?  Have I missed some important anniversary?”

 

Napoleon made a face at him and was rewarded by a sad little smile.  _Well, baby steps count,_ Napoleon thought, happy that he’d gotten at least a hint of a smile from the man, and headed out the door. 

 

As he entered the canteen, he paused to look around, more out of habit than need.  April and Mark were sitting at a table piled high with breakfast trash.  Apparently, they had been busy catching up on missed meals in the field.

 

“Hey, Good Looking, what’s cooking?”  Napoleon asked as he approached.

 

“Not much of anything,” Mark answered and then looked chagrinned.  “Oh, you were talking to April, I suppose.”

 

Napoleon laughed and pulled up a chair from a neighboring table.  “I need your help with something.”

 

The partners exchanged looks, and then April nodded.  “Ask away.”

 

                                                ****

Illya Kuryakin walked down the corridor towards Napoleon’s apartment.  He was feeling more melancholy than usual, but he refused to call it homesickness.  He’d been in America for many years now.  It was not the first time he wasn’t able to swing time to visit his family back home, but for some reason, this year it was bothering him more than usual. 

 

Everywhere he looked, he saw families happy, planning for the holidays and just celebrating being together.  It made Illya realize that his parents were aging and soon they would be gone.  It was a miracle, if you believed in such things, that Papa was even still alive.

 

Illya nearly turned down Napoleon’s invitation for dinner, but the hope in his partner’s eyes was too much.  Illya would go, make as merry as he could, and beg an early evening.  It wasn’t that his cold, bleak apartment was much of a draw, but it was at least some place that matched his mood.

 

He stopped at Napoleon’s door, not at all surprised to see a huge wreath decorating it.  That was just like Napoleon.  The man simply loved this holiday.

 

He knocked and Napoleon opened the door a second later.  He was dressed a burgundy blazer and had a sprig of holly in the buttonhole.

 

“You’re here, finally!”

 

“I’m actually a few minutes early by my watch.”  Illya looked at his wrist and shook it.  “Sorry. I guess it’s stopped again.”

 

“Not a problem, come in.”

 

Illya entered and then stopped, staring at the Christmas tree.  It was always a high point to see Napoleon’s tree.  This year, however, it was barely decorated and it took him a full minute to realize April was standing there holding a cup of eggnog in one hand and a garland in the other.  Mark stood beside her, helping to set it upon the branches.

 

“Hi, Illya!” April’s cheeks were rosy and Illya decided it was probably from the eggnog as opposed to the fire burning in the fireplace.  She set her cup down, handed Mark the rest of the garland, and came to greet Illya.  She planted a kiss on his cheek and Illya looked at her in surprise.  “Merry Christmas!”

 

“And to you as well.”

 

“Mate!”  Mark joined them and also planted a kiss, one on each of Illya’s cheeks.

 

“What is going…?”  Illya fell back a step.

 

“Oh, what the hell?”  Napoleon pushed Mark out of the way and gave Illya a proper kiss.  The Russian could not have looked more surprised and then looked up as Napoleon pointed at the mistletoe that dangled overhead.

 

“If Waverly’s here, I’m out the door,” Illya sputtered, but he didn’t wipe his mouth.  He’d never disrespect his partner that way and if the truth be told, he didn’t actually mind.  After all, Russians kissed each other all the time.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s just us.  A nice little holiday dinner party for you, Illya.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You seemed to need a little lift,” April said, fetching him some eggnog.  “Have two glasses of this.  It really helps.”

 

“I can tell.”  Illya got his jacket off and hung it up.  He turned around and Napoleon was standing there, his expression soft and inviting.  “Thank you.”

 

“I just figured if you couldn’t go to your biological family, I’d surround you with the next best thing.  So, you have April, your kid sister, and Mark, the clown of the family.”

 

“And you?”

 

“Why, your good looking and much loved uncle, of course.”

 

Illya reached out and touched Napoleon’s face, his smile matching Napoleon’s.  “Of course.”

 

“We will have a lovely dinner, complete with Christmas crackers and plum pudding, then presents and then later…”

 

Illya moved his fingers to Napoleon’s lips.  “We will talk about later… later.”  Illya glanced up and leaned in, returning the kiss.

 

Napoleon pulled back and looked up.  There was nothing but ceiling there.  “No mistletoe.”

 

“I don’t need no stinkin’ mistletoe, Napoleon, not for you.”  Illya’s smile grew then for he realized that, within these four walls, he had a family that neither time nor distance could ever take away from him.  And that was very all right with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
